Welsh Rugby
by Windswift
Summary: ON INDEFINITE HIATUS - Harry Potter, Howl's Moving Castle - Dumbledore has found his latest victim for the DADA post. How long can Howl slither out of his contract by refusing to acknowledge his classroom of students?
1. In which two Wizards walk into a bar

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and Howl's Moving Castle belongs to Diana Wynne Jones

For those of us who may be wondering about the significance of the title… there really isn't any. I couldn't think of one, and Welsh Rugby stuck. Besides, that's the catalyst that caused all the trouble in the first place.

**_Welsh Rugby_**  
_In which two Wizards walk into a bar_

Albus Dumbledore was known, to all who had met him and to quite a few who had not, as an enthusiast.

This, of course, was a polite way of saying "a crazy old bat," for they referred to him as such in the same manner that one would call Hagrid a lover of pets. It was a true statement, taking into account that what Hagrid named pets, most people called exotically dangerous beasts once they had run far enough to feel sufficiently safe. Popular rumor speculated that Dumbledore gave the half-giant his job because he liked the man's tastes.

Although Albus' enthusiasms were varied and wide, they had in common one of two characteristics: either the eccentric, or the mundane so mundane to the point of eccentricity. Things like a pet phoenix and an endless supply of lemon drops enhanced this theory. So it came as no surprise to find him thoroughly enjoying his stumble upon a rugby reunion.

It was summer and, trying to kill two birds with one stone, he was touring the various pubs of Wales while searching for another replacement teacher. Perhaps this was not the best way to go about picking up professors, but by now people had long since given up trying to question his unorthodox methods.

He savored the June evening as he went, waving jovially at all who paused to stare at his rather outlandish Muggle clothing. Nothing could dampen Dumbledore's mood this fine Midsummer Eve, for he knew there to be a particularly fine university in this city, thus the location of the bar, and he had always been rather fond of schools. Granted, most lacked the characteristic quirks of his own educational institution, but it was the thought that counted.

He was most pleasantly surprised to enter his destination and discover, from the drunken enthusiasm, that this particular university had a rugby team, and that said team was hosting a Rugby Club Reunion. Albus, of course, greatly enjoyed Muggle sports, for it was amusing to see their creativity in finding entertainment without the use of magic. He thought to have a good evening of mingling and chatting with the locals.

At about an hour that must have either been very late at night or very early in the morning, he spotted the wizard.

Dumbledore could not believe he had not noticed the young man earlier. This was in part because he was very loudly singing in a manner most unbecoming for a Welshman, but also due to the man's flamboyant air. He demanded attention—Albus had half a mind to ask him how he got his hair that particular shade of white, he rather fancied it.

He strolled over and sat beside the man. "Wonderful evening, isn't it? It's so nice to find a fellow wizard here."

The man's green eyes were rather unnervingly glassy, and he had a curious notion that it might not be because of the alcohol. It reminded him somewhat of Alastor Moody. A shrewd look settled into those eyes. "If you're with the King, tell him he doesn't want me, I'm a terrible dishonest coward."

"I'm the headmaster of a school, actually. And if you truly were dishonest, you would lie and call yourself honest. Although," he continued thoughtfully, "if you were truthful, you would never call yourself dishonest."

The young man gave it a few moments' contemplation before neatly avoiding it. "He's found a replacement for her already?"

Studying the spells on the man's hair and outfit, he had not been paying the strictest attention. "Oh, no," he remarked offhandedly, "I'm still searching. Are you interested in the post?"

"I'm not a Royal Wizard," he replied automatically. But before he could begin elaborating on how black his name was, he found a hand shaking his own warmly.

"Wonderful, you're unattached! I'll send you the details closer to the start of term, of course. My name is Albus Dumbledore."

Vaguely apprehensive that he ought to be slithering out of whatever the elderly wizard was babbling about, he skipped to the final remark. "Howell Jenkins."

"By the way, who on earth is your tailor?"

And thus it was that Albus enjoyed the rest of his summer vacation immensely, having acquired his newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

**…****  
to be continued  
…**

_-Windswift_


	2. In which Howl's Muggle relatives

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and Howl's Moving Castle belongs to Diana Wynne Jones

Things to be addressed… First, Sophie. No, Sophie shall not appear, because I did not think of how wonderfully she would fit, so I did not plot to find a way to sneak her to Hogwarts with Howl. And now, I can't find a way to do so… I'm hoping that I can spawn a few ideas and have a bonus chapter with Sophie, though. But as far as this fic goes, it's pretty much just Howl-centric. Second, the timeline. The first chapter was set during the book, near the end, at Howl's Rugby Reunion (around June 20th). The rest of the fic will take place post-book, heading toward the start of the school year and beyond. No one's asked about the Harry Potter timeline… there's nothing particular in mind, especially as I won't actually cover events of the school year, and Voldemort isn't scheduled to appear. But for the record, it's any time post-Chamber of Secrets.

_**Welsh Rugby**  
In which Howl's Muggle relatives are accosted_

In hindsight, Dumbledore reflected that perhaps he should have heeded that "terrible dishonest coward" comment.

Howell Jenkins, it appeared, had run away.

This had not yet been confirmed, however. It might have merely been a mistake that the school owls could not locate the prospective professor. Possibly the drunken man had foiled him with a false name, throwing the whole game off a bit. Albus was not overly worried yet, for he had one last recourse.

A scrap of paper (he had thought to save it for his collection, as Muggle paper was much more interesting than parchment) lay on his desk, decorated with an address that hopefully would lead to Jenkins' whereabouts.

And really, a visit would be so much more personal than a letter.

* * *

Albus paused at the front gate of a yellow house. He glanced down at his scribbled note, then squinted back at the house; Rivendell, yes, this must be the right one. He admired the garden as he walked up to the quaint glass door; the place had an entirely Muggle charm.

He pressed the doorbell and waited, doing his best to look harmless and unassuming.

Soon enough, he saw a little girl come running up, hopping a bit to open the door. She stared at him for a long moment, thumb in mouth.

"Hello." Dumbledore smiled disarmingly. "Are your parents here?"

She pulled out her thumb to bawl back inside the house, "Mommy, there's a strange man at the door!" He decided not to take offense at that.

"Mari!" The woman was scolding as she approached, "How many times have I told you not to answer the door?"

"Least I didn't talk to him," the child retorted. Her mother, he assumed, pulled the girl behind her, half shutting the door as she did so. She studied Dumbledore now, a suspicious look on her face, which rather reminded him of his vanished teacher.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Albus twirled a stray end of his beard with a finger, hoping the woman would not be nearly as difficult as she looked. "Excuse me, madam, I was wondering if there might be a Howell Jenkins living here."

Her face hardened, and the door closed a bit farther. "No, he isn't. And he isn't going to be."

"Is he one of Uncle Howell's friends?" Mari tugged on her mother's leg insistently, "He dresses funny." She was sharply shushed in reply.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, I take it you know him? Would it be too much to ask if you could give me his address?"

"He doesn't have an address." He felt it rather prudent to back away, as the woman's blue eyes blazed in anger. "My brother is a good-for-nothing bum, a shame on the family. He has no job, no permanent home, and he's a freeloader wasting all we've ever done to get him a good education and set him up well in life!"

If he had not been so determined not to have to find another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore might have slunk away down the sidewalk while she was ranting. As it was, he hoped to appease her, offering, "Actually, I'm here to see about giving him a job."

"Oh? And what good will that do him? Just look at you! You dress even worse than he does. Am I supposed to be proud that Howell's associating with even more riffraff? He's no right to come around disgracing us like this, and even less inviting strange people over to our house; it's bad enough, the ones he brings with him, but now he's handing out our address? My husband's coming home soon, I'll have you know, and you'd better be gone when he gets here!"

Mari popped her thumb out of her mouth, chirping, "Uncle Howell visits sometimes."

By the time Albus had parted his lips to reply, the door had been shut in his face. He blinked, chuckling to himself, "Why, I believe she's fairly worried about him."

As he walked away, he supposed he would simply have to arrive at the same time Jenkins was visiting.

**…****  
to be continued  
…**

_-Windswift_


	3. In which Howl is nearly pinned down

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, and Howl's Moving Castle belongs to Diana Wynne Jones

_**Welsh Rugby**  
In which Howl is nearly pinned down_

Megan Parry scowled as she drug the rubbish bins down to the edge of the driveway. It did not particularly bother Dumbledore, for he was rather used to the sulking of disapproving Muggle relatives. And she was not nearly as unpleasant as she was… _spirited_.

He had taken to sitting outside the front gate, waiting for the mysterious Howell to appear. As it was getting rather close to the start of term, he worried. He did not need the Ministry deciding he was incapable of finding a replacement teacher.

He gave a good-natured sigh. "I suppose it would be imposing too much to ask to be invited in for tea. Lemon drop?" he offered, but only received a stony silence. He popped the candy into his mouth.

Hands on her hips, Megan glared down at him. "I hope you don't think you're going to sit here again all day while Gareth's gone. If you don't stop stalking myself and my family, I'm going to call the police!"

"No, no, of course not, I was just resting!" Dumbledore desperately wanted to avert any run-in with the Muggle authorities, due to a few bad experiences. He had been accosted once or twice for being a suspicious character, and being the helpful old man that he was, each time he immediately pulled out his wand and assured the officers that it was harmless unless he wanted to go around poking out eyes. For whatever reason, they always seemed to find this offensive, and Albus found himself receiving an educational tour of the Muggle prison system.

"Rest someplace else!" While she was yelling at him, Albus felt a curious little bit of magic behind him. Naturally, he turned around to investigate.

A familiar young man was approaching down the sidewalk, apparently nonplussed by his sister's angry shouting and strange visitor. "Really, Megan," he laughed, "leave the poor man alone. Since when did you stop inviting guests into the house?"

She glowered impressively. "_Your_ guest, more like. What do you mean by vanishing and sending your friends to my home?"

Howl blinked and glanced at Dumbledore, seeming to notice the aged wizard for the first time. His green eyes, Albus noted, looked much more alive than the last time he had met him.

"Hm… do I know you?"

Dumbledore sighed; this did not bode well for his hopes of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Yes, we met at your Rugby Club Reunion. I offered you a teaching position at my school, and you accepted. It's quite irresponsible of you to vanish after I hired you. What have you been up to?"

Howl tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I did get married."

"Married! When?" Megan's blue eyes were wide in surprise, anger, and hurt. "You've never brought a woman with you. And when was the _wedding_? Do I even want to know why you suddenly decided to run off and find yourself a wife?"

Howl seemed to shrink, as if preparing to slither back the way he came. "I've been very busy lately. Did it slip my mind to mention it to you?"

Dumbledore sighed again, fetching another lemon drop from his pocket as he sat on the roadside and waited for the family bickering to end. Really, petty arguments of jealousy were rather tiring at his age.

When Megan had stormed back up the length of the sidewalk and slammed the door behind her, he fished a roll of parchment from his robes and turned to Howl. He ventured, "You may not remember our agreement, but I have the contract you signed, if you would like to refresh your memory."

"I'm on my last apprentice, sir." Howl seemed to turn a very sad and noble figure upon which to look. "He wants to get married soon himself, you see. I don't think I shall be able to go on teaching after that."

"Nonsense, that's just what you need to get your mind off of moping!"

Howl took the parchment delicately into his hands. "Well then, I'm resigning."

"No, my dear Professor Jenkins, you cannot quit," here Albus tapped a line of writing, "until the first accident of the year."

"…Accident?"

"Oh, it's a finicky little position, Defense Against the Dark Arts," he replied with vague lightness.

Having now read to the end of his contract, the reluctant teacher smiled triumphantly, and he looked quite dashing. "I'm sorry, but you have the wrong man. This was signed by H-O-W-L Jenkins, and my name is H-O-W-E-L-L Jenkins."

Dumbledore squinted at the line, then remarked, "Well, so it is, I hadn't noticed. That's strange, the magical binding took to you anyway. There's really no getting out of this, I'm afraid. But don't worry, it's only for a year. Less than that, even, so I'm certain you'll manage. And I won't even ask you to return next year. Lemon drop?"

Howl ignored him, searching for another last resort, so Dumbledore shrugged, ate the candy himself, and apparated them both away.

**…****  
to be continued  
…**

_-Windswift_


End file.
